The Khaki Boys over the Top eBook

But with the advent of the foe the Americans opened
such a fire from rifles, hand grenades and light artillery,
while the scene was illuminated by flaring lights,
that the Huns were almost completely wiped out.
A number of prisoners were taken, for the Boches, once
they found the tide of battle going against them,
threw down their guns and cried: “Kamerad!”

Sharp as was the fighting, it was only a slight incident
in the great war. Such skirmishes, or trench
raids, were occurring all along the Western front
every night. But slight as it was it took the
lives of several gallant American lads, and a number
were wounded. Roger Barlow received a slight
flesh wound, but he refused to go back to the dressing
station, insisting on getting back into the fight when
his hurt had received first-aid treatment.

“The only trouble was, though,” Roger
said later, “that the scrap was all over when
I got back from the first-aid post. Pity you fellows
couldn’t have kept it going until I could join
you.”

“Better to have it over with sharp and sudden
than drag along,” replied Jimmy. “They
killed poor Baker right in front of me,” he
added, naming a “bunkie” of whom he and
the five Brothers were very fond. “I might
just as well have received that bullet.”

“Yes. It’s a queer world,”
mused Bob. “If it hadn’t been that
Franz went out against orders and got information,
we might all be dead now.”

And this was true.

Once more silence settled down over the trenches,
but it was now almost morning, and with the breaking
of dawn the rain that had been a drizzle all night
settled into a steady downpour.

“Not much fighting to-day,” decided Roger,
when the four Brothers were at breakfast together—­and
a cold breakfast at that, for there was no fuel to
heat the coffee, though word went around that the traveling
kitchens were on their way toward the trenches.

Roger was right. Each side consolidated its positions,
and each seemed waiting for what the other might do.
This state of affairs continued for three days, during
which the rain lasted. Save for an occasional
artillery duel at night, precipitated often by some
nervous sentry firing his rifle, there was no actual
battle.

At the first chance, when he was off duty, Jimmy secured
permission to go back to their former headquarters.

“I want to find out about Iggy if I can,”
he said, “and also make inquiries about Sergeant
Maxwell and that money I owe you fellows.”

“You don’t owe it to us!” declared
Roger.

“I sure do!” was the answer. “Just
as much as if I’d borrowed it from you!”
declared Jimmy. “And I’m going to
pay up, too!”

He returned from his little trip much sooner than
his comrades had expected. There was a joyous
light in his face as he greeted them, and cried: